


Nice Girl

by Domination



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Baseball, Kansas City, Kansas City Royals, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domination/pseuds/Domination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was only one thing Eric's mom had asked of him, it would be for him to marry a nice girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first baseball RPF story, so let me know what you think. I am still trying to figure out how to use this website, so bear with me.

_“I will always be proud of you, but I would like to give you a word of advice before you leave. When it comes time, marry a nice girl.”_

_\---------------_

Eric had always prided himself on being a good man. He gave to charity, he helped people in need, he told kids not to do drugs. But perhaps most of all, he liked to say that he had a one-of-a-kind relationship with his family. And that’s not to say that some of the other guys didn’t – Gordon was as much of a family man as it gets – but Eric had always felt that his was special.

His mom was probably the reason for that, really. She had always supported his career, whether he was no older than a preschooler hitting off a tee or twenty-six and counting, playing on the biggest stage of his life. She was always there: on the phone congratulating him, or in the stands crying tears of joy that only a mother could produce as her baby walked up to the batter’s box.

She was his rock. She drove him to practices when he had no license, she sent him off to summer camps to learn from the best baseball coaches around, and she called him up after nearly every game to let him know what he needed to work on. She was always there for him.

And Eric would be damned if he didn’t act the same way for her.

There was only one thing his mother had asked of him should he become a big time baseball star, and that was to marry a nice girl. Someone he could take home to meet his aunts and uncles, his cousins, and his grandparents. Someone who was smart and able to balance out Eric’s hot-streak. Someone who would be a good mother to his children, like Eric’s mom was for him.

Eric had tried dating, he really did. But on numerous occasions he would discover that she wasn’t someone he could really take home to his family. Some would just date him because of the money, others just for sex, and even more just wanted to be known as the chosen arm candy for the Royals’ first baseman. It would hurt for a while, sting with every breakup. But Eric would get over it and move on. This wasn’t the nice girl his mother would want him to have.

He would keep looking.

So maybe it came as a shock to him when Eric realized that maybe he wasn’t into nice girls at all. He had felt the bile rise in his throat as he made the conclusion, rushing to the bathroom to puke his guts out. His mother would be so disappointed. But then again, maybe he had always been a disappointment.

He sat for a while, pondered his conclusion before heading to the gym to sweat off his emotions. Eric had to be at the clubhouse in couple of hours for batting practice before the night’s game, but he decided that a double-workout would do him good. He needed release.

It was several weeks before the full details of his conclusions reared it’s ugly head. Eric had always been fairly outgoing with his masculinity, but he wasn’t afraid to let others know about some of his feminine traits as well – he _did_ have the best hair on the team, no matter what some of the others might say. The brunt of his conclusions had had him believing that maybe he just liked women who only cared about themselves, but recent developments told him that perhaps he needed to look at something _completely_ different.

Eric had stumbled upon this conclusion. Really, he had face planted onto the conclusion. He had found himself walking around the clubhouse one moment, his head fogged up from thoughts about the game they had won only minutes before, and the next moment he was falling down a flight of stairs that he couldn’t remember being there earlier. Eric felt a strong pair of arms wrap around him, hauling him off his ass. In the back of his mind he could vaguely hear someone asking him if he was okay, but Eric was too focused on the strange musky scent that was surrounding him.

It was nice. The smell was like a mix of aftershave and a familiar cologne that he couldn’t quite place. Eric moved his head so that he could look up at the face of his savior, deep brown eyes looking back at him in worry. Moose stood in front of him, waving his hand in front of Eric’s as he animatedly talked at him. Eric couldn’t quite make out the words that his friend was saying, too focused on the man’s dry, cracked lips that wouldn’t stop moving. It was at that moment that Eric realized he was screwed.

The team medics had quickly come over after the other man had yelled down the hallway, hoping that someone could help the dazed first baseman. After being poked and prodded for what seemed like a lifetime, Eric was finally released to be sent home. When he arrived back at the house, the first thing he did was run to the toilet and puke.

 

* * *

 

It was a few days before Eric had decided that something was really off. What clued him in was the fact that he seemed to be avoiding eye contact with everybody. A few of the other guys had come up to him, asking if something was wrong, but Eric just shooed them off; he wasn’t really up for talking at the moment. In fact, Gordo had come up to him earlier and asked if he was feeling all right, and Eric had _blushed_. The left fielder had chalked it up to Eric still feeling a little under the weather, but Eric was left feeling extremely embarrassed.

Dammit, what was wrong with him? He had only just made a monumental discovery about himself, but did it really mean that he couldn’t look his male teammates in the eye properly without feeling slightly less masculine? Okay, he had to admit that Gordo was a pretty attractive individual. But – fuck, he couldn’t think about his teammates like that. Not now. Not after being seemingly fine a week ago. No, he just needed to clear his head. Play baseball.

To make matters worse, the team doctors had decided that Eric had a minor concussion and was unable to play in the next few games. Of course, Yost had held a conference to let the fans know why their beloved first baseman had a concussion in the first place. Allegedly, Eric was hit in the head after misplaying a popup in the bright sunlight during a practice game. Apparently the team didn’t want the public to know that Eric had caused the injury himself while falling down a flight of stairs in the clubhouse.

Kendrys Morales was actually surprisingly decent at first base. He wasn’t as agile as Eric, but he made up for it in experience. First base _was_ his regular position before moving to the DH spot in KC. Eric focused on the game intently from his position on the dugout bench. He was actively ignoring Yost and a few of the other coaches that tried talking to him, occasionally nodding or adding in an “Uh-huh” when the time called for it. Eric scanned the field throughout the game, but his eyes kept moving back to the man on third base.

Moose was tall, albeit a few inches shorter than Eric, and he had an arm that could throw a baseball like he was a cannon. He was widely built, and Eric had no doubt that Moose was as strong as he looked. He wondered just how strong he would be in–

Eric gasped, pulling himself from his thoughts with a sudden lurch that almost threw him off the bench. He quickly alerted the rest of the dugout occupants that he was fine, just a little tired, and silently hoped that the TV announcers and camera crew did not catch that. He didn’t need live television to tell him that he was screwed up: he already knew that.

He let out a small string of curse words under his breath, chastising himself for his stupidity. Moose was his friend. His good friend. Quite possibly his _best_ friend. And what did Eric do? He had to go and fuck it up! Couldn’t he just live his life bearing the consequences that he might be a little gay in peace? No, apparently not. Because his stupid fucking brain was having stupid fucking thoughts about his stupid fucking best friend fucking him!

Eric was screwed. He was so far screwed beyond belief. He had known it for a while but he was just now registering the implications. He. Was. Fucked.

 

* * *

 

Eric had always prided himself on being a good man. He really had. And he had always prided himself on being able to please his mother nearly one hundred percent of the time. But here recently he was beginning to wonder where his life was taking him.

_“Marry a nice girl.”_

He wanted to scream, let out all of his frustrations on the world. To call up his mother and tell her the truth. _“I’m sorry, ma. I’ve failed you. I’m not the son you wanted. I’m not gunna marry a nice girl. I’m gay.”_ It had taken Eric quite a bit of time to come to terms with it, but he had finally realized that it must be true.

He woke up every morning in a pool of sweat, his body shaking and dried cum down his leg. He pitied whoever the hotel maids were that had to keep changing his sheets, and he kept telling himself that he deserved it when he gathered up his own sheets at home. He did deserve it, for the man whose name he spoke each morning when he woke up was someone Eric could never have. And he would leave the room in shame, still perfectly seeing the deep brown eyes of the third baseman whose face was perfectly etched into the back of his brain. 

 

* * *

 

Everything went downhill the night Moose invited Eric over to his house for beer after the game. He was hesitant at first, but Eric decided that if he said no without a viable excuse then Moose would have a just reason to believe that there was something wrong with Eric. And Eric did not want that.

Eric had downed five beers by the time that the other man got around to asking Eric what had been up with him the past several weeks. Moose had always been sincere about everything he did, and the look of concentration on his face made him look incredibly cute from Eric’s point of view. He had to resist the temptation to lean over and capture the other man’s lips with his own.

“Uh, what?” Eric was too caught up in Moose’s lips to remember what his friend had asked him. And his ever-growing buzz from too much alcohol wasn’t helping.

“Are you okay?” Moose looked rightfully concerned, moving closer to Eric and placing a hand on his forehead. Eric could feel his pants grow a little tighter, and he could only hope that Moose hadn’t noticed. He leaned into the touch, and Moose moved up to cup his cheeks with both hands. “Man, are you sick? You don’t look so good.” Eric looked up at him, into those deep brown eyes and just relished in the feel of the other man touching him. He was gentle, but Eric could feel the roughness of his hands from years of batting practice and tossing the ball back and forth. And suddenly, Eric couldn’t resist it.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or Eric’s dick. But the look in Moose’s dark eyes pulled Eric in close enough to capture the third baseman’s lips. They were dry and chapped, just like he had predicted. And he tasted of bubblegum and sunflower seeds. But just as quick as the kiss began, it ended. Moose was pulling away from him with a shocked and disgusted look on his face, something that Eric had hoped to never see and prayed he never would again. It was a look of hurt. Betrayal. Anger.

“What the fuck?!” Moose pulled away so quickly that Eric, in his drunken state, was afraid that he would fall off the couch. He looked back up at his friend and felt that he might almost need to cower in fear, for the man above him looked like he was about ready to punch Eric’s lights out. His hands were both clenched in meaty fists, and Eric was sure one punch could put him in the hospital if Moose wished it. “I mean, what the actual fuck?!”

Eric stared wide-eyes at his friend, trying to get out the right words. “I – uh don’t –” He let out a small whimper when Moose grabbed ahold of his collar, roughly pulling him to his feet.

“Fuck!” Moose growled in his face. And Eric, who was six foot four and had never been truly scared of anyone, closed his eyes tight. He was unable to look at his friend directly without letting out what would probably be another whimper. “Look at me.” Eric did as he was told, already feeling a little sweaty from nerves.

Moose was angry, yes, but there was something else on his face that Eric couldn’t quite identify. Resignation? No, he didn’t think that was it. Moose looked as if he were defeated for some reason. His shoulders slumped as he threw Eric painfully back onto the couch. Moose sat on the other end, keeping a respectable distance from the first baseman. Eric wanted to puke.

They sat in silence for a long period of time before Moose finally looked at him, the man’s eyes red and rimmed with unshed tears. He let out a hollow laugh before asking the question that Eric hadn’t wanted to hear. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Eric shrugged, glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye.

“Fuck, man.” Moose sighed. “Does anyone else know?”

Eric shook his head.

“How long?”

Eric turned his head to face the man, confused. “ ‘How long’ what?”

“Fuck, Eric.” Moose growled, pulling at the hair on his head, “How long have you known, you’re…” he wildly gestured in Eric’s direction.

Eric shrugged, wishing he knew the answer himself. “Not long I guess. I’m uh, not attracted to everyone. – I mean, uh, it won’t be weird in the clubhouse,” he fumbled on his words, “The team – the team’s fine. We’ll be okay. I don’t need to tell anybody. We’re okay – we’ll be fine. I’m sorry.” Eric choked the rest of his words out.

Moose nodded, somewhat calmer than before. “It – uh, it’s okay.” He tentatively reached out a hand to clasp Eric’s shoulder warmly, moving slightly closer. “So the rest of the team, you’ll be okay around them?”

Eric nodded, his heart racing. “Yeah, man, they’re fine. It’s really just when I’m near –” He stopped himself, eyes wide. He looked back at Moose, only to find the other man staring back at him, eyes dark.

“Me.” Moose finished, taking his hand from Eric’s shoulder. Eric could feel all of the warmth leave with that hand, as if it somehow sucked out all of the heat from his body. He couldn’t force himself to look away.

Dammit, Eric had fucked up. He was supposed to be a leader on the team. Someone who the other guys could look up to. But no, he had to go and fucking ruin the relationship between himself and his best friend. He was an idiot. No, he was worse. Eric couldn’t think of a better word in his drunken state, though. But he deserved to be called that, whatever the word was.

“Go to my room.”

“What?” Eric was either hearing things, or he was way more drunk than he imagined.

Moose stood up as if he were making his mind up about something. “If we’re going to try this, I’m gunna do this right.”

Eric couldn’t believe his ears. “What?” He said again. He couldn’t move right. His words were failing him. Was he hearing his friend correctly?

Moose rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk, I’m not going to take advantage of you. You need to sleep.” Eric almost felt himself deflate a little before the other man added, “I’m not gay, man. I’m not. But Stephanie’s the only women I’ve ever known, and uh –”

“You need practice?” Eric guessed as he was pushed up the stairs. If she was the only person he had ever had sex with, then Eric could imagine that his friend might need a little more help now that the two had broken up.

Moose mumbled what seemed like a “Yeah” before Eric was shoved onto the bed. He got in next to Eric, and pulled the covers up over his torso. Eric was still a little dazed from the beer, but he didn’t complain when Moose reached out a tentative hand to cup Eric’s chin. He looked into those deep brown eyes and almost came right there; God, those eyes could melt him. “Can I?” Moose asked shyly, still looking slightly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Eric had to keep himself from blurting out _“Oh God yes!”_ as he nodded his head, licking his lips before Moose leaned down to capture them.

The kiss was different than the last one. This one was less unexpected, sweeter and more gentle. Eric could tell Moose was still unsure about the whole thing, so he quickly surged foreword to gain control. It wasn’t anything like kissing a woman, Eric decided. While a woman was sweet and delicate, Moose was gruff and kind of controlling. He could feel Moose’s scruff against his jaw, and he wondered how the other man was feeling about it. But he didn’t pull away, not until they both came up for air. They were silent before Moose turned off the light, bathing them both in darkness. Eric nestled down into the covers, not sure whether to take the silence as a good or bad thing. But a light, affectionate brush of a hand against his hip put a smile on his face as he fell into the warmth of sleep.

 

* * *

 

Eric had always seen himself as a good man. In reality, he had to wonder how much of it he had really been making up. It had come to his attention that he wouldn’t be fulfilling the one wish that his mother had truly asked of him. And that angered him. He felt guilty.

All of the nights so wonderful. They were so wrong, and yet they felt so right. What had he done wrong to make him this ill fated in life? He supposed he shouldn’t complain. Here he was, living a dream that he had never felt possible while some families struggled to get food on the table. And Eric was feeling bad for _himself_. He really was a terrible person sometimes.

He sat by the windowsill overlooking the white sand of the beach and the beautiful ocean below. The fan was on, blowing cool air throughout the room as the other occupant of the room slept. It was still early but Eric found that he couldn’t sleep, instead finding himself more comfortable looking at the scenery beyond the little hotel room. It was still a couple of hours before he had to get dressed to head to Tropicana Field; it was the start of a very long road trip.

The nether regions of his body were still sore from the night’s events, but Eric couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face when he thought about it. It was like he could still feel the other man inside him, holding him, telling him everything would be okay. The warmth when Moose came, still inside him. Everything about it made Eric happy, even when they had to hide their moans from the rest of their teammates. Baseball wasn’t ready for two men together yet. Eric tried to ignore that though.

He was too lost in is own thoughts to notice the figure behind him before a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist, making Eric lean back into the other man. He was still a few inches taller than the third baseman, but Moose didn’t seem to mind. “What are you thinking about?” The words tickled Eric’s left ear.

He sighed, still looking out longingly at the beach. “My ma. She told me that if there was just one thing she could ask from me, it would be that I marry a nice girl to bring home to the family.”

Moose pulled him in closer, resting his chin on Eric’s shoulder. “Do you think you’ll tell her about us?” It had been a few months since that first night, and Eric could honestly say that this was the best relationship that he had ever had. Sure, they had to hide it and try to keep it inconspicuous as their feelings grew, but Eric didn’t mind. If that were what he had to go through to make this work, then he would do it over and over again.

Eric put his hand up to the glass, as if his hand would magically slip through it. His mother was only a few hours away, living in Miami; the home where he grew up. He ached, to be so close yet so far. “I hope so.” Moose leaned in and Eric moved back to gently capture his lips with his own. For now, everything was good.


End file.
